The Vision of the Eagle
by Darkover
Summary: Steward Ecthelion has a most vivid dream, which ends up affecting the future of Gondor.


11

Title: "The Vision of the Eagle"

Author: Darkover

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: The characters of "The Lord of the Rings" were created by J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me. This is a work of fiction, done for the sake of love and not for money. No infringement of copyright is intended. 

Characters: Ecthelion, Denethor, Aragorn, and OCs

Summary: Steward Ecthelion has a most vivid dream, which ends up affecting the future of Gondor.

~ooo0ooo~

"I had a dream last night, my son," I said to Denethor when we broke fast that morn.

"Indeed, Father?" His tone was polite. My son and heir is always polite, but of late he is seldom more than that, particularly when I mention any matter that he deems impractical. He is a master of lore, my son, but he believes firmly only in what he deems worthy and useful to know. Dreams, like the folklore of Men, or the knowledge of the Elves that so fascinates me but interests Denethor not at all, are of little concern or value to him.

"Yes, I dreamed that Gondor was beset by enemies, right and left—"

"We all have nightmares, Father," Denethor interrupted. "But at present the Easterlings seem quiet, and the Haradrim have turned their attention elsewhere. You need have no fear; I have the situation on our borders well in hand." His tone was kindly, but rather patronizing, as if speaking to a frightened child or a nervous woman. It pricked at my temper. My son is valiant, and a worthy captain of Gondor; his courage and dedication to our land make me proud. But since Denethor became Captain-General, he seems to believe that I am a dotard who must be humored. I nearly expected him to pat my hand and assure me there was nothing to fear. I am still Steward of Gondor, his liege-lord as well as his father.

"I do not doubt that," I said, rather impatiently. "This was not a typical dream, my son. As I said, our land was beset by enemies. In the East, Mount Doom had erupted—"

At that, Denethor left off eating and focused his attention on me and my words. Even in a dream, the land of Mordor is too close and too much of a threat to be ignored. "What else happened, my lord?"

At least he was listening now. "Evil Men, orcs, and all sorts of foul things were marching upon us. Worst of all was a massive fell beast that came from the air."

"I know of no man who has ever seen such a creature, Father," Denethor said, perhaps attempting to reassure me.

"None living, at least. But the dream had a pleasant ending, my son." My voice warmed, became more enthusiastic as I recalled the conclusion of the dream. "At the last, when all hope had faded, a giant eagle came out of the north and saved us! It was a great eagle, stern but beautiful, with grey eyes like those of a Man, and a silver star upon its breast. It was a kingly bird!"

Denethor frowned, whether in bemusement or disapproval, I knew not, but this time he waited for me to finish.

"The eagle flew right at the fell beast, and tore at the creature with his talons! As the great eagle fought with the fell beast, other eagles appeared. They were not as magnificent as the eagle with the silver star upon his breast, but they followed him, as soldiers follow a great captain, or knights follow a king—"

Denethor's frown deepened, but still he held his peace.

"Together, the eagle with the star and his kinsmen fought off the enemies of Gondor, and saved our land!" I finished. Perhaps my voice had risen, and I suppose I spoke with more excitement than is seemly. For when I spoke those words at the last, my son waited for a moment, as if making certain that I had ended my speech, and he gazed upon me with eyes that held only pity. Clearly, the dream had not impressed him as it had me.

"It was but a dream, Father," he said, and then resumed his meal.

I knew not what to say to that. He was right, of course. Denethor frequently is. He is a man of brilliant but subtle wit, learned but unimaginative, not given to patience with dreams or fantasies. Or mayhap I wrong him. We both had to deal with the enemies of Gondor, especially the Enemy to the East. I did so as Steward in Minas Tirith, while my son safeguarded the borders of our land and when necessary fought on the field of battle. A dream of an eagle with a star upon his breast, no matter how compelling, will not serve to defend Gondor.

We had just finished breaking our fast when a servant entered and, with a bow, informed me that a Man had come, seeking to serve Gondor, and was in the room without the audience chamber, awaiting the Steward's pleasure. Denethor frowned at hearing this.

"Father, do you mean to continue with your plan to employ sellswords in the service of our land?" His tone made it clear what he thought of that idea.

"I have," I said, as if we had not already had this conversation before. Denethor despised all sellswords on principle, and had not hesitated to speak his mind when I had asked him for his thoughts. "But you should join me, my son, while I speak with this man," I added, deciding that my heir might warm to the idea if I appeared to need his counsel. "I would know your opinion of him."

Denethor inclined his head, and together we went to the audience chamber. Once there, I took my seat while my son seated himself at my right hand, and my faithful hound Huan trotted up to me. I scratched Huan behind the ears, and he settled at my feet. He is too old to hunt now, but he has been my faithful companion for many years. Then I opened and read the letter written on the man's behalf by King Thengel of Rohan.

Thengel King had nothing but good to say of the man, who had but recently left his service. What the King would have, was for this man to serve him in perpetuity, and perhaps even marry one of his daughters; for this man, called "Adanedhel" by the King, was wise, skillful, brave, strong, a true soldier and a great Captain of Men. Adanedhel was not of the Rohirrim; he had come to them at the recommendation of Mithrandir, whom the Rohirrim called "Gandalf," and had surpassed all the wizard had said of him. Thengel King was effusive in his praise, and was loath to let this Adanedhel leave his service; but the man had sworn no oaths either to the King or to Rohan, and as Adanedhel wished to journey on to Gondor, Thengel King could not gainsay this request.

"Most impressive," I said, as I handed to my son the letter writ by the King of Rohan. "King Thengel is not a man over-generous with praise. This Adanedhel must be quite the soldier."

Denethor read the letter quickly, but to my surprise, did not seem pleased. "'Adanedhel,'" he said abruptly. "A strange name. In Sindarin it means 'Man-Elf,' or 'Man of the Elves.'"

"Mayhap this Adanedhel is remarkably fair for a Man," I said mildly.

"Or mayhap he reminded King Thengel of Turin Turambar," Denethor said. "Perhaps this man is under some doom, and brings ill fortune with him. Gondor needs him not."

I was losing patience. "Gondor needs every man skilled with a sword! Denethor, do you suppose we might at least see and speak with this man before deciding whether or not he would be of any use to Gondor? He has come a long way, and I for one would fain see this paragon of whom Thengel writes with such praise." Huan raised his head, having been alerted by the edge in my voice, but I patted him and he settled once more.

Denethor bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."

I commanded the servant to bring this Adanedhel in. Moments later, the young man—for he appeared to be of an age with my son—stood at attention before me. Huan lifted his shaggy head to look at the young man, and thumped his tail as if in greeting.

The man's appearance was remarkable, though not in the way I expected. While the man had come from Rohan, clearly he had not been born of their people. He was strongly built but much taller than the stocky Rohirrim, being at least six and one half feet in height. He was dark instead of blond, grey of eye and with sculptured cheekbones. Certainly he was comely enough for a Man, but that was not what made him exceptional. He and Denethor looked enough alike to be brothers!

Denethor noticed it too. His astonishment actually showed on his face for an instant before he adjusted his visage; other men, less familiar with my son's face than I, would not have noticed it. It seemed to me that Adanedhel saw it too; the grey eyes flickered in the direction of my son. It was then that I noticed this man had a brooch in the form of a silver star on his cloak—a star identical to that borne by the eagle in my dream!

The young man bowed to me. "Greetings, my lord Steward. I am called Adanedhel, and I am at your service and at your family's."

"That remains to be seen," my Heir said.

"King Thengel speaks highly of you," I said, noticing that the young man had not offered the name of his father. I was sure Denethor noticed it as well, and doubtless saw that as cause for suspicion, but there might be many reasons for such an omission. Adanedhel might be an orphan and not know the name of his father. He might have been sired out of wedlock, or estranged from his father for reasons not his fault; or his father might have been a traitor of some kind, or a craven who ran away in battle. Such sons often repudiate or are repudiated by their fathers, and must therefore make their own ways in the world. I do not hold it against them.

I questioned the young man for some minutes and was satisfied with his answers. He was intelligent and unfailingly courteous, and King Thengel's recommendation was not to be disregarded. But in truth I had made my decision when first I saw the star upon his cloak, the star that was identical to that on the breast of the eagle in my dream, the great eagle that had saved Gondor. Although I would not have said as much to Denethor, I deemed it a sign from the Valar.

Once Adanedhel had knelt before me and taken an oath to serve Gondor, I bade him rise. "Let us all drink a cup of wine to mark the occasion," I suggested, and ordered a servant to bring wine.

The servant who bore the tray with a flask of wine and three goblets was not a man I had seen before, but I deemed that of little consequence. He filled our cups, and I raised mine, but just as I was about to lift it to my lips, Adanedhel sprang forward and knocked the cup from my hand. "Do not drink!"

The goblet went flying, spilling wine all over the floor. Denethor rose with an oath, Adanedhel seized the servant who brought the wine and was grappling with him, Huan barked, and the guards stationed at the door rushed into the chamber.

"Let go of me!" the servant cried.

"Explain yourself!" Denethor thundered at Adanedhel.

Huan barked once more, and then began to lap up the wine from the floor.

The guards moved quickly to flank Adanedhel, pointing their swords at him. One guard asked, "What is amiss, my lord?"

"I saw this man put something in the Steward's cup," Adanedhel said before I could speak. He tightened his grip on the servant, who emitted a squeal and ceased to struggle.

"I didn't!" the man whined. "My lord Steward, tell him to let me go!"

"Arrest him," Denethor snapped.

"Which one, my lord?" the first guard asked.

"My lord Steward, look1" said the second guard, but our eyes had already been drawn to Huan by the sound of his terrible wheezing. My poor hound was desperately trying to breathe but failing. Even as I moved toward him, his eyes rolled up in his head, foam appeared at his mouth, and he collapsed. All breath had stopped. He was dead.

Without further orders, the guards took the servant from Adanedhel's hands. I looked the man in the face and asked him: "Why?"

I thought he would deny it again, but to my surprise, he answered. His visage twisted into ugliness, and he snarled; "You killed my brother, Steward—you and your unending war against Mordor! Poor Carl—he just wanted to farm a piece of land, as our father had before him, but no, he had to serve in Gondor's army, and he was killed!"

"Blame the Dark Lord, not my father," Denethor said, and looked at the guards. "Take him away. He shall die on the morrow."

The man spat at my feet as the guards removed him from my sight. Other servants came, and as they moved to clean the floor, I bid them to take away my faithful hound and bury him. At last, I turned to Adanedhel.

"Already you have served Gondor, for I owe you my life!" I said. Then, in the next moment, foresight came upon me, and I spoke; "I name you 'Thorongil,' Eagle of the Star, for by your keen eyes and your swiftness you have saved me from death. Thus shall you be known in Gondor."

He knelt before me, dark head bowed. "I thank you, my lord Steward."

I put my hand upon his head. "From this day hence, you shall serve Gondor as one of her Captains. Rise, Captain Thorongil!"

He rose, and I embraced him as I would a son; for the memory of my dream returned, and foresight was upon me once again. I knew that just as Denethor was the son of my blood, this man would ever be the son of my heart.


End file.
